


Typewriter, July 10, 1970

by MissAtomicBomb77



Series: For the Greater Good, Let's Do the News [8]
Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:16:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAtomicBomb77/pseuds/MissAtomicBomb77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The way that dreadful beast hums when you’re using it. It makes you so happy and I want that so badly to be me, I want to be the one thing that makes you that happy.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Typewriter, July 10, 1970

July 10, 1970  
3:22am  
Charlie and Leona's Apartment  
Phnom Penh, Cambodia

It only took Charlie three tries to unlock the apartment door. It helped when he finally pressed his forehead to the door for it gave him a sense of balance. With that, his mind was able to trigger the reflexive memory to recall where in fact the keyhole was located. It was below the doorknob and where as he knew that, it was a difficult thing to locate in the dark. The added bonus being that he was slightly, ever so slightly drunk.

When he opened the door he was glad to hear the silence and mostly darkness greeting him. Ah, sweet silence and the soft moonlight from the balcony. Lee was done with her work and was in bed. He was careful to close the door as softly as he could manage and placed his hands on the wall to trace his way up to the singular nail where they hung the key when they were not out. He was functional, he was feeling rather good and his face has a soft rosy glow to it. He looks all of twenty instead of his thirty one years, having shaved his beard a few days back. Charlie looks gleeful, happy, and content. These were the words Ed used with him. 

Who knows if it was out of an honest place or several drinks in, but Ed admitted that he adored Charlie and was so glad that Charlie had Lee in his life. She was doing wonders for him, Ed had told Charlie. She was taking the angry man that Charlie had become in Saigon and making him wise for his years. 

Something to that effect, the words and admiration would be lost on Charlie by the morning. Drinking with Ed boarders on a contest mixed with a little bit of practical wisdom, sprinkled with the occasional back handed compliment. Above all, Ed, while his boss, was a good friend, empathetic to Charlie for reasons Charlie would never understand. Years later, Charlie would decide that Ed saw reflections of himself in Charlie, but that astute assessment was still many years away. 

Right now, Charlie had other things to navigate, mainly how stealthy he could be getting into bed without waking up Lee. He decides to lean against the door and peel off his shoes and socks there. He doubts his capacity to do it close to the bed, slightly unsure of his balance. It seemed to be exhausting and he finds himself peeling off his shirt while the back of his head is planted firmly on the door for balance. Once he’s managed that, he leans back against the door and takes a moment to enjoy the cooling sensation that it has. He didn’t realize how hot it was, even for the middle of the night. He enjoys it for several moments, his eyes closed to the world.

The thought appears in his mind that perhaps the bed sheets would be even cooler and this spurs him into moment. He feels like he’s moving normally, yet if he were to actually see himself, it would be a bit of a lumbering moment. She creeps into view and he’s so glad to see her sleeping but slightly disappointed. The reason for his disappointment is the fact she’s asleep right in the center of the modest bed and he’s probably going to have to wake her up if he wants to join her. Probably her own way of knowing when he finally came home, he thinks and decides to opt for the hammock in the balcony instead. As he starts to move in that direction, she speaks.

“Don’t you dare,” her voice is clear as day, she’s been awake the entire time.

He jumps in his place, a hand flying to his chest and turning to get a proper look at her now. 

Her elbow is resting on the pillow now and she’s propping up her own head. “I don’t care how drunk you are, come to bed.” She scoots slightly and pats the mattress.

Charlie is grateful for it, because he still had the idea of cool bed sheets floating around in his mind. He falls into bed, probably a little less gracefully than he could have, but he’s just glad to be off his feet. Crisp and cool against his back, his arms outstretched. One dangles off the bed and the other finds itself on her hip. 

“Better?” She asks. 

“Much,” he responds and his tongue just feels thick in his mouth. 

“I’m glad you went out,” she tells him as she repositions his arm and herself to rest in the crook of his arm and letting him pull him closer. “You seemed so worked up earlier and I didn’t know why.”

Charlie squeezes her with his arm and his hand comes back to caress her shoulder. “You noticed.”  
“I did. Can you tell me why?”

He’s all smiles now and shakes his head. “It’s silly and everything’s fine.”

She picks her head up. “Are you sure? I feel like I did something and I don’t know what.”

Now Charlie laughs. “You did, but you weren’t doing it on purpose. Everything is fine, I swear.” He pecks a quick kiss on her cheek.

Now she tries to sit up a little bit, wanting to look him in the eye. “What was I doing? I’ll stop it if you tell me.”

Charlie softly pushes her head back down and she slowly relents, returning to the crook of his arm. “I was jealous of the typewriter. Relax, rest.”

Lee is genuinely confused. “You were jealous of the typewriter?”

Charlie nods again and pecks another kiss on her forehead. “Yes, but it’s over now. Go to sleep.”

She takes a moment to process this before she speaks again. “Why were you jealous of the typewriter?” The amusement in her voice is obvious. “Was it because it was keeping my full attention?”

He eyes are closed and he’s drifting away a little bit, he’s not as coherent as he could have been with her. Her memory is long and she remembers every little thing and has a strange way of bringing things back up that he’s long forgotten. However his defenses are dulled enough that he would rather answer the questions instead of engaging in the effort to dodge them to save face later. “That machine has your heart, not me. The way that you smile when your fingers touch those keys,” he tells her. “The way that dreadful beast hums when you’re using it. It makes you so happy and I want that so badly to be me, I want to be the one thing that makes you that happy.”

She can’t decide if she wants to laugh or cry. She knows now that he really is drunk, much more than he’d admit. Every once in a great while, the insecure boy creeps out of the place from where Charlie has him locked it away. Lee realizes that she’s treading on thin ice and is fighting the impulse to tease him about it. She thinks that he’s not going to remember this conversation anyway. His memory is different from hers and she believes that he remembers sensations more than events. How it felt to be at a place rather than the place itself. Which gives her the idea that she can in fact have her cake and eat it too, because after all, what was their relationship without a little banter?

“So tell me more about my lover the typewriter? What else do you not like about him?” She finds her hand drifting over his heart now, tracing where his heart would be.

“Your words and your voice,” he responds. “He keeps them from me. I love hearing you speak Lee, talking to you, listening to you respond, arguing with you, hearing your thoughts and your ideas. When you’re working I don’t get to have any of these things. I don’t get to have you.”

“Ah, my poor Charlie,” she coos as she throws her leg over his waist in her bid to move herself out of the crook of his arm and bring her lips to his ear. Her hand creeps from his heart to his shoulder. She’s quiet now as she speaks, because after all, she’s sharing a secret now. “He does get my words and my thoughts. He hears my questions. Only you get the rest Charlie, those things without words and my breath.” She can feel his hand tense around her waist now and she knows that he fully understands. “Besides,” she whispers. “I don’t crave its touch, only yours.”

Heaven help him because where as he thought it was hot before, she’s making him shiver. He wants to kiss her now, so badly. It takes him a moment to find where her lips have traveled off to. He’s tugging on her now, making sure she’s draped fully over him now and when their mouths finally meet he can detect a hint of smoke from a cigarette. She must have had one while waiting for him. She thinks she’s clever, smoking in the middle of the night, but he knows.

She’s never been fond of bourbon but she doesn’t mind tasting it on his breath, not in the least. It’s hard to describe his kiss, especially when he’s like this it’s almost as if he’s never kissed her before, soft and timid. He’s looking for her reassurance that she’s telling him the truth. Lee is more than willing to do that. She needs her mouth for that, however and moves that she’s whispering back into his ear. “Caress my back with your hands Charlie, your wonderful hands.”

He is more than happy to oblige her. She’s wearing one of his shirts again and he thinks for a moment that he needs to hide his clothes from her but changes his mind because it grants him easy access to her body. Her skin is impossibly soft against his rough hands. He goes to her shoulders right away, in a bid to keep her close to his chest, to keep her pressed against him. She denies him and pulls her knees under her to sit up, straddling him, forcing his hands to trace down her back, forcing them to her lower back.

“My shirt,” she says softly.

“My shirt,” he responds and he gulps because he’s not sure he’s coordinated enough to manage unbuttoning it. His hands loiter a few moments at the small of her back. He’s going to try and his fingers are slow to slink up to that first button. The light is dim, which is not helping either, but thankfully it looks as if she has only three of them or so done. 

She can tell that’s he nervous and she takes his hands in hers and guides him to where his fingers needed to be. She can sense the relief and when they are done, without asking his hands slip over her shoulders and pushes the shirt down, but not completely off. She known that baring her chest will betray her, her nipples are already taunt, waiting for his touch. She wasn’t lying to him in the least. She does crave only his touch and can’t even begin to imagine life without it.

He’s coming around now and he presses his palms into her shoulders and drags them down purposefully until he’s covering her breasts. Sober, he would write verses about her breasts; slightly impaired he can only think that they are perfect. His thumbs find her nipples and flicks. He gets the desired effect when she sucks in her breath and decides to just enjoy himself. He sits up suddenly, a little too suddenly, his head throbs with the movement and it takes her off guard, she slips back a little bit. Charlie is a bit sloppy and uncoordinated, but his mouth finds its destination soon enough. 

Even when he’s drunk, he’s so gentle. Lee’s hands find his neck and hair as his arms support her back. It’s his way of adoration and his way of giving praise as he flattens his tongue against her nipple and paints it with a broad stroke before circling back around. His teeth, a gentle nip and his lips give a gentle tug. Her hand in his hair tightens a little, part encouragement and part desperation. She could let him do this for days and she whimpers slightly when he decides to stop and change sides.  
One of Charlie’s hands is caressing her neck now, feathery, gentle as his other arm is plastered across her back, holding her in place. He breaks away from his ministrations and just speaks into her chest. 

“Do you love me?”

“Oh my God Charlie,” she breathes, turning her face down to him. As she does this, his thumb strays to the edge of her mouth. “I honestly love you. If I have to start saying it a thousand times a day, I will. You really are everything to me.”

“Thank you,” he whispers against her.

She curls around him now, tugging him to change positions and she pulls him over her, akin to a blanket as she lies back onto to the bed and he’s hovering over her now. She didn’t think her plan through and she’s pinned herself in the shirt, her arms restricted from moving very far from the mattress. “But I’m trapped.”

His shoulders jerk up a little as if he’s swallowed a laugh. Then he’s just smiling stupidly at her. That isn’t going to do. Not one bit. He’s tugging at the shirt now and she is too mindlessly before it dawns on her to sit up so she can free herself from it. Their heads crash together. She’s partly free, but the cost has her eyes shut and now she’s laughing too, her mouth a little ‘o’ as she chuckles her way back down to the bed. Charlie just hangs his head in mock shame, laughing. “You okay?” He finally manages to ask her.

“I think we’re both going to have headaches in the morning.” She responds, still amused.

This time he guides her up and they manage to get his shirt off of her. Once it’s off, she turns to throw the shirt towards the bathroom. Lee did not realize that Charlie’s head had now dipped near her shoulder for a kiss. With a force she didn’t realize was in her shoulder, she smacked him with it. “Shit Leona.” He mutters, not in real anger at all, just in surprise.

“Oh God Charlie,” she says, taking his face in her hands. “I am so sorry.” She plants a quick kiss on his nose.

He smiles at her as she relaxes her arms and eases herself back down on the mattress. “It’s okay, really. Just give me a second to…” He goes to pull his knee up and plant it firmly on the bed near to her because he’s trying to get back to the position of hovering over her. Only he misjudged, because when they moved he had no idea how close they were to the edge of the bed. Depth perception, while drunk, very much his weakness and with that, he ended up face planting himself on her chest as his knee was going down and right off the bed. His embarrassment was so acute at this point he just rolls himself off of her to sort of slide off the bed and onto the floor. After a moment, he just starts to laugh, a real honest laugh, holding his stomach, his eyes crinkled shut. Because if you can’t laugh at that, what was there to laugh at?

For a moment, she was stunned at the dead weight that was him on her and the fact that his amazing face plant, that it actually stung. She composes herself and leans from the bed to look down at him, smiling. “You really are drunk. But funny.”

“You think?” he matters to spurt out. “You liked our Laurel and Hardy routine that happened just now? I aim to please, you know.”

She smiles down at him, crossing her arms under her chin. “I’m kind of enjoying this, you rolling on the floor laughing. I almost forgot that you actually know how to laugh.”

He lacks the complete ability to be angry. After a short while, his laughter has faded and he’s able to speak normally again. “I’m sorry; I just want things to be perfect between us.”

“There’s no such thing. We’re human Charlie and breaking news: we are never going to be perfect.” She plants a kiss on her hand and places it on his lips. “Besides, I wouldn’t trade this little thing for anything. Plus, I don’t think you’re going to remember it.”

“Hey!” he exclaims. “Then in my mind, it will be perfect forever!”

She snorts for while Drunk Charlie has logic, he managed to miss the point. “Come back to bed. Let’s just sleep. We can play in the morning.”

Charlie scurries up and over her into the bed and he is asleep at her side in minutes. 

Lee snuggles in close to him. She lied to him just then, because their imperfection was what made them perfect. That, well, that’s her little secret.


End file.
